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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22842607">Crankiplier Fic Generator!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry'>ohpleaselarry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Begging, Bullying, Butt Plugs, Ch.1:, Ch.3:, Ch.4:, College AU, Comfort, Create your own fic, Crying, Denial, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Hickeys, Hidden Relationship, High School AU, Hurt, Intro, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Make up sex, Nervousness, Overstimulation, Rimming, Top!Mark, bottom!ethan, ch.2:, ch.5:, email me your prompt and I will write it!, i will add tags here as fics are added, read this post for details</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:06:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22842607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I’d love to just fill your crankiplier fantasy best I can! Do you have an idea but you don’t write? A certain au you’d like to read? A certain dynamic you want or maybe you just want some straight up smut? Let me know what YOU want to read! I will post it here as an additional chapter!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>494</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Crankiplier Fic Generator!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you’re considering sending a prompt, please read this carefully. </p><p>If you’re here to read the shorts, hit ‘next chapter’.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Hi guys! So I’ve been having the most fun writing crankiplier lately that I’ve decided to try something I never have before. Prompts!</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">I’ve gotten so many lovely comments on my fics and I just wanna give yall something YOU want. I’d love to just fill your crankiplier fantasy best I can! Do you have an idea but you don’t write? A certain au you’d like to read? A certain dynamic you want or maybe you just want some straight up smut? Let me know what YOU want to read! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Please, copy the template between the two green hearts, fill it out, and email it to ohpleaselarry@gmail.com</span>
</p><p class="p3">EDIT: I’ve just made an instagram! If this is more comfortable to use than email for you, feel free to DM me the template there: ohpleaselarry</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Pls do not comment your template. Comments on this first chapter are only for suggestions to improve the template, or reminders to check my email!</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">(NOTE: you don’t HAVE to fill out every question. If you would like me to fill in the blanks I will do so as I write. I only put in this many questions for those of you who want a very specific fic written)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p4">
  <span class="s3">💚</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">TEMPLATE:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Fill out what you specifically want. ALL of these questions are optional. If you only have a short prompt, just scroll to the prompt section. If it’s left blank, I will assume you want me to decide for you. (Which is totally fine!)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">DETAILS (required):</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><ol class="ol1">
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Name you wish to be credited as? </span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Do you have a preferred length? (Short fic(&lt;5k), medium (&lt;10k), or long (&gt;10k)?)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Any specific dynamics? (a/b/o, Dom/sub, teacher/student, etc..)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Smut?</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Based on/around one of their videos, or a movie/show? </span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">If yes, which one? (Yes I’m willing to watch movies/shows I haven’t seen to write your fic)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Do you want a Happy, sad, or open for interpretation ending?</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Is there a certain writing style you prefer? (High vivid imagery, romantic, crack funny, regular etc..)</span></li>
<li class="li3">who’s POV would you like? (Mark, Ethan, or switching)</li>
</ol><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">ADDITIONAL DETAIL (all optional):</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><ol class="ol1">
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">If smut, do you want full sex or just oral/foreplay?</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">If smut, does Mark or Ethan top? (Can be both)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">If smut, Is there a certain kink you want written? (Also provide who has the kink, can be multiple)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Certain tags you want written in? (Denial, unrequited feelings, friends to lovers, etc..)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">What is their relationship at the start of the fic? (Dating, friends, strangers, etc..)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">Are either of them dating someone else at the start of the fic?</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">If so, who? (Can be girlfriends, one of their other friends, or OC)</span></li>
<li class="li3"><span class="s2">If so, do you want cheating? How much cheating?</span></li>
</ol><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">PROMPT:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Write here anything you want me to know. This is just a base prompt to write off of. This is your original idea. If it’s just something like “college au. Teacher/student” that’s totally fine! Just remember, the more detail you give me, the more I can write to your taste. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">SUMMARY: </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Write here a summary you’d like for the fic. If you wish for the summary to be your prompt, leave this blank. Just remember, this might lead to spoilers if your prompt is very detailed. The summary can be anything from “Ethan knew Mark liked marshmallows, but he didn’t expect this...” to a simple “Batman AU. Mark is batman, Ethan is joker” </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Anything works! This is just for the readers! (If you want me to use part of the written fic as your summary, tell me this here)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">ADDITIONAL NOTES:</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Write here anything I didn’t include that you’d like to let me know. This can be details for the fic, or just anything you want to say! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Thank you for your submission! If I don’t reply within a week, pls comment on the first chapter of ‘crankiplier fic generator’ and remind me to check my email! I may be busy with school&amp;work and forget to check! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p4">
  <span class="s3">💚</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">I will copy and paste your prompt section in the note when the fic is posted. Pls give me a summary of you wish to have a certain summary posted! Additionally, I will credit you in that note. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WISH TO REMAIN ANONYMOUS. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">ALSO: if your prompt ends up being 10k words or more, it WILL be posted as it’s own fic! (Credit will be given and template will still be posted of course) Anything below 10k will be posted in this as a “short” (additional chapter) This is simply so I can keep shorts separate from longer fics so readers can read the lengths they prefer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Even if you just have an AU and don’t care about the semantics, please feel free to still shoot me an email. I will write ANYTHING. Any top/bottom, smut, AU, etc..</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Only exception: I will NOT write out rape/non-con. As in: one of them forcing the other, or being forced by a stranger. If you want a post-assault comfort fic or you want it to have happened in one of their pasts? All good. I will not write out the actual action, though. I will write out fighting, stabbing, violence, drugging, but NOT rape. This is simply my personal choice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">LASTLY: if you wish to have Amy or Mika in your fic, I WILL be changing their names out of respect. Let me know if you want their names changed to something specific. If not, I usually use other names that begin with A &amp; M so it’s clear who they are. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Don’t be shy! I will not post your personal email’s name. The name you give me in the template will be the one I credit! I will email you back updates as I write, edit, and post your prompts. I may also send you snippets to make sure it is what you want if you’re looking for very specific things! I WILL let you know if I won’t write your fic, and I WILL include a reason! </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Thank you to anyone considering, I’m so excited to see what comes my way!!</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mark Comforts Ethan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Credit: Bee :)</p><p>Prompt: they're filming the vid (Ethan Redefines Male Beauty), and its that part where mark says "youre hideously ugly" and ethan was already having a super bad day so he starts to cry after thinking a little and mark feels horrible and comforts him a bunch and then the smut happens cause mark wants to show ethan how beautiful he is</p><p>Words: 1k</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow! I did not expect so many responses to this generator idea! My inbox is flooding with prompts, thank yall so much :) pls be patient, as I don’t want to mess up anyone’s fic by rushing. I’m doing them in order of when I receive the emails. I see all of your prompts, but I will only reply when I begin to write yours so don’t think I’m ignoring you. </p><p>Anyway, this fic was a fun little dabble to write. I haven’t written shorts for quite some time! I know you only wanted some smut and more fluff so I tried to keep it not too dirty. I hope it’s up to your expectations, pls shoot me an email if you’d like it changed in any way!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s not having a good day. It’s just one of those days where he’s just feeling down and a bit anxious for no real reason. He tries to mask it for filming, but Mark seems to notice, bringing him a nice warm coffee before they begin recording. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He puts on a smile for the intro, sucking up his feelings as Mark rambles on about what beauty means. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m obvious beautiful, you’re obviously hideously ugly..” Mark says, not serious. It’s all for the video, Ethan knows this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yet, his heart sinks. He nods along, pretending his stomach isn’t turning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, searching up pictures of different men as they talk distracts him a bit. They make some more jokes, even bringing up Matthias again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After they transition, Mark stops him in the hallway as they move the cameras to the dining room for the makeup portion of the video. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You need a break? You seem off.” The man says, searching his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m fine. Let’s just finish this.” Ethan says curtly, forgetting to mask the fact that he’s upset. He turns, continuing down the hall. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? Ethan—“ Mark’s cut off when they step into the dining room and then they aren’t alone anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finishing the video is rough, but Ethan has gotten good at putting on this persona when he’s feeling down. Even as Mark continues to make jabs at his appearance over and over. It’s fine. He’s fine. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s not fine. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The minute the cameras shut off, Ethan’s off to the bathroom, scrubbing his face roughly to get the makeup off. He’s midway through cleaning the makeup off his torso when he starts to cry. He can’t hold it anymore, but he tries to keep his sobs quiet as he scrubs the lines off his stomach. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ethan, you okay?” It’s Mark, tapping quietly on the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan knows his voice will be telling if he speaks, so he just doesn’t, continuing to clean himself up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just when he thinks he should lock the door, the handle turns and Mark steps in, eyebrows pinching worriedly when he sees Ethan’s puffy eyes and tear tracks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, babe, what’s wrong?” Mark asks, stepping up and taking the washcloth from him, finishing up the job for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-nothing. I just..am I really that horrifying to look at?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark looks confused for a moment, but then he frowns, setting down the washcloth and cupping his cheek as he realises why Ethan’s crying. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! Hey, it was just for the video, you know that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It sure didn’t seem that hard for you to say how hideously ugly I am.” Ethan feels a bit petulant, but he can’t help it. His emotions were already all over the place today anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark takes his hands and leads him out of the bathroom and to their bed, where he gently presses Ethan down onto the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It <em>was</em></span>
  <span class="s1"> hard for me. You’re so breathtaking that I can’t breathe sometimes just looking at you.” Mark says, and presses a kiss to his forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Ethan murmurs, rubbing his tearful eyes, chin wobbling a bit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark leans in and kisses him, thumb swiping his tears away as he does. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he kisses his hurt thoughts away, Mark’s hand grazes down his chest and starts to unbutton Ethan’s jeans. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Separating their lips, Mark undresses them both, eyes watching him carefully. As Mark preps him, Ethan keeps his eyes closed, still stubbornly upset. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pulling his wet fingers away, Mark presses against him but doesn’t push in yet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so beautiful. Look at what you do to me. Can’t you see how I feel about you?” Mark asks, convincing Ethan to open his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sees Mark’s dilated pupils, the sweat lining his forehead, and the sweet smile on his lips, and thinks that maybe he is acting a little silly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As they make love, Ethan feels nothing but care from his partner, who presses kisses to him the entire time, like he’s making up for his mean words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Later, before Ethan can come down from the high of his climax, Mark wraps a hand around him, not letting him soften up. Overstimulating him. Ethan hisses, nails digging into Mark’s shoulder. It hurts a bit, but in the best way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So beautiful. So amazing. I wish you could see yourself right now.” Mark murmurs, pulling him off to a second orgasm. It’s only a few drops, but Ethan’s toes curl, seeing stars. The man is definitely trying to make it up to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Afterwards, Mark cleans him up and lies down next to him, fingers combing his hair back from his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. You’re incredible.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles, finally. He curls up against Mark’s chest and finally feels better. He needed a good cry anyway today. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay. I wasn’t feeling great in the first place.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark kisses his hair, hand grazing lightly over his back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Besides, I’m incredibly good looking. You think someone like me would date someone ugly?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan giggles and shoves at his shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up! So egotistical!” He complains. Mark grins and pulls him in for a kiss. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles against his lips, heart racing with love. His day, once terrible, is renewed. Rolling over, he takes a pillow and slaps Mark with it, starting a pillow fight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a good day. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Credit: Tii</p><p>Summary: Some days just don’t go as planned.</p><p>Words: 5k</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was soo fun to write! My first high school au with this pair :) hope yall enjoy. I’m having so much fun with these prompts pls know I see all of your emails and I’m going to write them! 💚</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark is sort of the perfect high schooler. Every parent’s wet dream. He’s the most popular guy in school. A senior, captain of the wrestling team, a star in the school band, with perfect grades and never-ending charisma. All the girls want to be with him and all the guys want to be friends with him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan couldn’t be more opposite. He’s a junior, not in any school groups. He has next to no social skills, no friends. He spends his weekends gaming on his PC and he wears just basic hoodies and jeans as to not draw any attention to himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan would probably say that Mark would never have noticed him if they weren’t next door neighbours, but that’s not really true. Mark’s friends with <em>everyone</em></span>
  <span class="s1">, even the people nobody else will talk to. Probably the only non-cliche thing about him is that he’s not a bully. He’s incredibly kind to everyone he meets, which is probably why he’s so popular. How someone like Ethan managed to score him, even if it’s in secret, he’ll never know. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nestor, if you’re daydreaming I’m going to assume you can remind the class what Cicero’s five canons of rhetoric are?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pressing his glasses up his nose, Ethan blushes in embarrassment, eyes frantically falling to his very empty notebook, feeling the entire classes eyes on him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“U-Um...memory...uh—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Eyes on the board, class. You’ll be tested on this in just a week!” The teacher turns back to his lecture, and Ethan tries to pay attention but he’s so embarrassed that in the end he doesn’t retain a single thing anyway. He knew the five canons. They learned them yesterday, but he’s terrible under pressure, and he can feel eyes on him even when everyone turns back to the teacher. He can hear people snickering in the back of the classroom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a rough day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s frowning in his mirror at his (probably anxiety induced) acne breakout when there’s a tap at his window. He turns to find it’s Mark. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Opening the window so Mark can jump in from the landing, Ethan pulls the hem of his hoodie down nervously. He still gets so nervous around him, even after all this time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark quietly slips into the room and shakes his hair away from his face hotly, then pats some dirt from his letterman jacket. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How was your day?” The man asks, and reaches for him, pulling him close and pressing their lips together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan clutches his boyfriend’s lapels of his jacket and kisses back enthusiastically, heart pounding in his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pulling them to Ethan’s bed, Mark settles down with him. They lie on their sides facing each other, legs tangled together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was fine. How was your audition? Did you get your trumpet solo?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark grins at his question, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. Nobody else even tries out anymore. I feel bad. They have pretty good potential but I’m just too good for them to shine.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles fondly. Mark does that a lot. He somehow manages to be incredibly kind and empathetic while simultaneously being egotistical. He reaches up and traces Mark’s jawline with his finger, cheeks heating up as he knows the man’s eyes are watching him intently. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, you graduate in just a few months. They’ll have their time to shine.” Ethan replies. Mark’s hand trails up his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I already have enough offers from so many schools that I have a free ride to any city you want to go. Then when you graduate we can get out of here. Get our own apartment. A dog, even. Just us.” Mark’s eyes sparkle with optimism. Ethan smiles, amused. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Big plans.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, well, I have big feelings here.” Mark sighs. He has such a wonderful smile. Ethan cuddles against his chest and tries to contain his want to just kiss him all over. He will never get used to knowing Mark’s feelings for him. They still feel impossible, and yet they’re there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark isn’t having the best day of his life. This morning, the car he got for his 18th birthday ran out of gas on the way to school, so he had to have his mom bring him gas, which made him have to miss his before school wrestling meet, and then half of his first period. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To make it all worse, he passes up one of his prom king campaign posters (obviously not done by him. He never cared to run but everyone wanted him to) and remembers that he’s going to have to ask some girl to prom instead of going with the person he really wants to go with. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because Ethan’s a junior, they only share one class. Mark could have made third period a free period, or study hall, as he’s a senior and doesn’t have many core class requirements. Instead, he took ceramics so he could have at least one class during the day with his boy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Speaking of, Mark sighs, glancing up from his shit mug to see what the boy in question is up to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sits at the spin wheel, tongue sticking through his teeth in focus as he carefully shapes a vase. His glasses slip down his nose and he presses them back up clumsily with the dry part of his arm. He’s having trouble, as the sleeves of his blue sweater are slipping down his arms, dangerously close to the wet clay coating his hands. He’s so cute it makes Mark’s fingers twitch with the want to just scoop him up and run away together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You heard me, Mark? You can pinch the edge of the lip to give it space for the handle.” It’s Tyler, who points at Mark’s sort-of-mug. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, yeah cool. Hey, can you do it for me? E—um—that kid’s sleeves are going to be caked with clay. I’m gonna go help him out.” Mark doesn’t wait for a reply, standing up and approaching Ethan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler won’t see it as anything out of the ordinary. Mark’s all about charity. He’s that guy escorting the new kid to each of their classes on their first day. He just has to make sure he doesn’t show his fondness too much. Tyler would definitely notice if Mark starts to hug the boy or something. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, um, hello.” Ethan says when Mark steps up to him, acting casual. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark kneels down to his height and starts to roll up the boy’s sleeves. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t stay away when you wear blue.” Mark murmurs quietly so nobody else hears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan giggles, cheeks reddening. He’s devastatingly cute. Mark rolls up his other sleeve slowly, buying time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Meet me in the closet during lunch.” Mark says, then pats his back like they’re just bros, before walking back to his table. Tyler’s eyes narrow when he sits back down, having helped Mark’s mug to look a lot better. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know him?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not really. We live on the same street. He’s a junior, I think.” Mark says casually, as if he didn’t stay awake for far too long last night watching the boy in question mumble incoherently in his sleep. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well he keeps looking over at you. I think he likes you.” Tyler jokes. Mark laughs, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Everybody likes me.” He replies. Tyler rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulder, and the exchange is forgotten. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Prom is coming up.” Ethan mentions casually as they share a lunchable in the storage closet later that day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You going to ask anyone?” Mark asks, sipping at a Capri sun. Ethan sits with his knees to his chest and shrugs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Was kinda hoping someone would ask me.” He murmurs. Mark frowns, setting down the drink. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ethan—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know. It’s fine. I’m just tired of hiding, you know? I know your friend Tyler thinks I have some stupid crush on you and I hate that I can’t prove him wrong.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You saying you don’t have a crush on me?” Mark asks, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan finally looks at him, trying to stop his smile but failing horribly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up, oh my god.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark grins and tangles their fingers together, pressing a kiss to the boy’s hand like he’s a prince. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s just come out, fuck it all. Go to prom together. We only get one prom, after all. I don’t want to go with some girl I don’t love.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan scoots the lunchable tray away and crawls over to him, straddling his lap. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve been wanting the opposite the entire time I’ve known you. Why the sudden change?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark closes his eyes as Ethan combs through his hair, head falling back against the wall behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know. It’s my senior year. I guess that adult wisdom is finally coming in.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So we come out at prom?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We come out at prom.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s watch dings. It’s five minutes before the bell. Ethan gives him a long kiss before skipping out of the room, an excited glow to his cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stays behind for two minutes like he always does, stomach turning nervously. Walking into prom with Ethan will cause near chaos. Nobody in the school knows they’re together, let alone the fact that Mark isn’t into women. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s worth it, still. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s nearly giddy with excitement. He can’t focus on anything during school, too busy thinking about it. He’s nervous, of course, but he’s more happy than anything. Everyone knowing he’s with Mark..it would stop the whispering behind his back. People might actually talk to him. Everyone loves Mark, it has to transfer to him, right?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Unless it would make everyone jealous. Or disgusted. Then the opposite happens. What if Mark’s popularity takes a huge shit when everyone finds out? Ethan would like to think that the majority of people here aren’t really homophobic, but he doesn’t really know. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He waits in the storage closet the next day for Mark, bouncing on his toes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, the door opens. Mark steps in smiling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry I’m late. Kathryn had to ask me about something for our project.” Mark doesn’t pull out any lunch. Instead, he steps up to him and presses him against the wall. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t wait to show you off.” Mark murmurs, leaning in to kiss him. Ethan pulls him in closer by his jacket, stomach fluttering. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The kiss heats up quickly, both boys excited for what’s to come. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark pulls away, lips instead trailing down to Ethan’s neck, where he starts to mark him up a bit. Ethan stretches his chin up to give him more room, mouth slacking.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-fuck..” Ethan whispers as he feels Mark’s hand trail down his waist and to the buckle of his jeans. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door suddenly swings open next to them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god!” It’s Mark’s friend Tyler, who stares in horror for a second, before slamming the door closed again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark pulls away, eyes wide. They stand in shock for a minute, before they separate and straighten up their clothes. Mark takes his hand and they step out of the closet, where Tyler waits, arms crossed. Ethan seems to be the only one who notices the girl walking down the hall, eyes on their clasped hands and red lips, who immediately pulls out her phone and starts texting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tyler..”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not mad that <em>this</em></span>
  <span class="s1"> is what you’ve been hiding, I’m mad about the fact that you <em>have</em></span>
  <span class="s1"> been hiding it. You told me that you were having lunches with Ally everyday. Yesterday she said that she mostly spends lunch in the library doing homework. You’ve been lying to me.” Tyler looks genuinely upset, frown deep on his face, ears red. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan chews on his lip, feeling out of place. He pulls his hand from Marks and holds onto the straps of his backpack instead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m sorry! We’ve been hiding it from everyone, to be fair. Not even our parents know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t trust me to keep your secret?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course I do! I was just scared of your reaction. I was scared you’d hate me or something. That’s why we hid it. We didn’t want anyone to hate us.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This only makes Tyler’s eyes widen in disbelief, mouth dropping open. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve been your best friend since 3rd grade and you really think I’d hate you for this? Do you not know me at all?” Tyler suddenly turns and storms off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark calls his name but doesn’t chase after him. He sighs deeply and turns back to Ethan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan shakes his head in disagreement, wanting to squeeze his hand but very hyper aware of the few students milling about. The bell is about to ring. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think our plan is going to happen. A girl saw us step out holding hands. I think she’s telling everyone.” Ethan sighs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark frowns, shaking his head. The bell rings, loud in their ears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll see you tonight.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan watches him leave, feeling terrible. He could’ve suggested coming out forever ago. He could’ve, but he didn’t. It’s partly his fault that Tyler’s pissed off. He hates seeing Mark upset. He just wants to fix it, but doesn’t know how. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler’s standing at his locker, stuffing books into his bag. It’s the end of the day, so the hallways are crowded as kids make their way to the buses or the parking lot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan takes a deep breath. He’s not the most social of people. His palms are sweating just knowing what he’s about to do. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has to, though. He has to at least try to help out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He steps up to Tyler just as the man shuts his locker and starts to zip up his rucksack. The man gives him a strained smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey Ethan.” He says sadly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. We’ve shared a ceramics class all year now, ya know.” Tyler turns to start walking to the parking lot, so Ethan falls in step next to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Um, I-I just wanted to come talk to you. About Mark.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Tyler stuffs his hands in his pockets, frowning as they walk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, it’s not that. He’s really down about it. Hiding us was my idea too. It’s not just his fault. It was his idea to come out, actually. He wanted to tell you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They step out into the parking lot. Ethan usually takes the bus home but he can just walk if he needs to. Or maybe Mark could give him a ride. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, tell me when he tells everyone else? As if I haven’t told him shit even when I didn’t want to? He’s had plenty of opportunities to tell me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sure, but—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know the other day in ceramics I noticed you watching him. I told him you might have a crush on him and he just laughed, made some joke about how everyone likes him. He could have told me then. Nobody else was listening in. It was just us.” They stop at Tyler’s car, facing each other. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you’re pissed off, but Mark’s just scared, deep down. Scared that people will turn him away. Scared of what his brother will think. His mom. Just..prom is really soon. He’s going to need his best friend. Be pissed at him some other time. He really needs some support right now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler chews on the inside of his lip, frowning. He narrows his eyes at Ethan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look..I’ve heard people..the things they say about you. It’s not really the fact that he lied, kept secrets, and snuck around. It’s the fact that he knows the things they say as well. We both see it. The small junior that nobody talks to. The fact that this entire time he had the power to reveal you two and stop that? It’s fucked up. He let it go on. He let you continue to go through the most toxic point of our lives by yourself all while people talk shit.” Tyler looks genuinely pissed off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan pulls his sleeves over his hands nervously. He never thought of it that way. Never even considered that. The fact that Mark could’ve stood up for him. Could’ve come out with him, given him a friend group during high school. Taken him for movies or invited him to parties. Most of all, Ethan had no idea Tyler noticed any of this, and it makes him wonder how many people have noticed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I’m fine..”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t lie to me. I’ve been bullied too, you know. Before you moved here, back in middle school. It’s fucked up. I know I’m pissed at Mark for this but at the same time I never did anything either. I’m sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for it, but I’ll forgive Mark, if it’ll make you feel better.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan shrugs, blush tinting on his cheeks. Maybe nobody else noticed. Maybe Tyler’s just the observant type. Ethan doesn’t really know him enough to know. Ethan mostly keeps his head down, not really watching the people around him. Of course he never noticed Tyler watching. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m used to it, I guess. I don’t really notice it as much as I used to. He makes me happy, you know? I just never cared that we hid it because every minute I do spend with him is just priceless.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler smiles, reaching out to pat his shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re all right, ya know. Hey, how about tomorrow, you ditch the closet and come sit with us? Our friends are shitheads. We can, like, start a protection group or something.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean..Mark—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry about him. I’ll talk to him, make up. You shouldn’t spend lunch in a closet. I hate to say it like this but..eating lunch with the “popular” kids will really boost you up. Maybe even stop the whispering behind your back.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles, hands sweating with the idea. Sitting at Mark’s table with all of his friends. Everyone seeing him sat there. Maybe even sat next to his boyfriend. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay..um, I should head home. I missed my bus and I don’t want to be walking at night.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, you need a ride? You live on Mark’s street, right? I live in the same neighbourhood.” Tyler offers, holding up his key and unlocking the car they stand next to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan would usually deny, with a stutter and a blush, but he feels weirdly confident now. He’s dating Mark Fischbach, star of the school, maybe it’s time he starts acting like it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure, thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That night, Ethan waits with his window open, sitting on his floor stretching a bit, wondering if he’ll continue going gymnastics after high school. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark arrives right on time, crawling through the window, landing quietly on his feet. He shucks off his jacket and shuts the window, sitting cross legged across from him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tyler called me.” He murmurs. Ethan, bent over his leg touching his toes, quickly lifts his head at the sound of Mark’s voice. Raspy. Cracked. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man’s eyes are puffy and red, hair mussed like he’s run his hands through it far too many times. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, Mark—“ Ethan lifts up onto his knees, reaching for him, but Mark stops him, a hand on his wrist. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve been such an asshole and you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. So much more than I deserve. I knew what people were saying. That people were “accidentally” shoulder checking you in the halls. That people avoided you and told the new students to stay away from you. I didn’t do shit. I just let them—“ he chokes off, covering his face as he cries. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan scoots up to him, pulling his hands from his face and wiping his tears away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, that’s true, but you wanna know something? Every time we met in that closet, or met here in my room, it all went away. During school, I’m thinking about you so much that I don’t even hear the whispers. You aren’t the cause of the bullying, but you sure are the one thing that takes it all away.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark shakes his head like he doesn’t agree, but he pulls Ethan in for a hug. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Even now, you’re comforting me. It should be the other way around.” Mark mumbles nearly incoherently in his hair. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan pulls back just enough to meet his eyes and smiles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m okay. Can’t you see how happy I am? Then we come out at prom..”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. I’m not letting it go on for a day longer. Here.” Mark reaches over to the window sill for his letterman jacket and hands it to Ethan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wear it tomorrow. Then, when you meet me at lunch, kiss me hello. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll knock their teeth out.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan clutches the jacket, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A-are you sure? Mark, I don’t think..” he doesn’t really have any protests in him. He can’t think of a reason not to, really. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m positive.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stares at the cafeteria entrance, foot bouncing nervously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s up with you? Are you on crack?” Kathryn asks. Everyone looks to him. Tyler gives him a knowing grin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep.” Mark says shortly, and his foot abruptly stops bouncing when the door opens and in steps Ethan. All of his fears fall away. Suddenly, there’s nobody else in the room. Ethan scans the room, cheeks pink. There’s already people staring. Everyone knows Mark’s jacket, he wears it nearly everyday. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy spots him and just looks more nervous, eyes glued to the floor as he approaches, hands fisted at his sides. As more and more people notice the boy in his jacket, the more the noise level starts to quiet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, isn’t that your jacket?” Evan asks, and Mark’s whole table looks over to the boy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” Mark says once Ethan’s in earshot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” Ethan replies, voice shaky. He steps up to the table, looking at nobody but him, and leans down, pressing their lips together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The lunchroom erupts in noise as people start to either cheer or loudly gossip to each other. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan pulls away and sits next to him. Mark takes his hand, proudly holding it between them. Surprising himself, he doesn’t look around the room to see how everyone reacted. He doesn’t even look around the table to his closest friends. He can’t look away from his boy. The joy in his eyes, the pink on his cheeks, the small pleased smile on his lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s so in love. Now, he just doesn’t care who knows it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Healthy Competition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Credit: Maddy</p><p>Prompt: Mark is the best student, but Ethan comes along and now the competition starts. Therefore they start to fight for everyones attention, only to realise they fell in love with each other (after some questions about their sexuality). Denial, denial, denial..</p><p>Words: 10k</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BEFORE ANYONE CORRECTS ME: Yes, Mark drinks alcohol in this fic. Which he did irl when he went to college. If this fic were set after college, he wouldn’t drink. This fic is not set in current times!</p><p>Also, I know next to nothing about American fraternities or college in general. Pls don’t read too far into the random shit I make up lmao I’m only going off of light google searches haha. </p><p>Lastly, Ethan’s character is unlike him irl bc it’s a front he puts on. You get it as you read, but think of him as like..heapass if heapass was a posh mastermind with endless snark lmao</p><p>This prompt was lots of fun! I’ve been working on it everyday! I try to get the fics out quickly as my inbox is bursting but if yall request longer fics it of course will take longer :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Call him egotistical, but Mark’s sort of at the top of his game right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s number one on the dean’s list, has a perfect GPA, president of Alpha Chi, and he throws the best parties on campus every month. One of the things that really sets his fraternity apart from the rest is their style. He couldn’t stand the khaki shorts and pastel button down look so he opted for suits or business casual. His house always looks fresh as hell, and the school loves it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, there’s the whole charity thing where they raise lots of money for their philanthropy, and the fact that they are the most elite frat house on campus so only the best of the best get it. They really are the best. They have pretty much no competition at this school—</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mark, we’re in trouble.” It’s Tyler, who steps in with his phone in hand, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stands from his desk, rounding it and sitting on the edge. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the problem, brother?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Our problem is Ethan Nestor.” Tyler shoves his phone in Mark’s face, showing him an article from their school newspaper. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan Nestor, president of Theta Phi up in Maine, the best frat house in the state, has decided to transfer here, to lead the Theta Phi of this school. Some sort of major charity act. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“His points are off the chart. He’s..he’s better than us. Theta Phi is our worst competitor here. They’re just initiating him in with no ritual. He’ll be the youngest president at this school. And the fastest to earn that title.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well fuck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well fuck indeed. In the following week, this Ethan Nestor has swooped in, fired off half of his brothers, thrown the biggest party of the year, and in just a week has passed Mark up on the dean’s list, holding number one by three points. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s near chaos at Alpha Chi. Mark’s house is almost desperate to earn back that number one spot. Nobody else even came close. Not even one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark is yet to meet the guy, let alone see him. He doesn’t think he will, seeing as the different houses don’t just hang out together. He’d have to have a class with him, or hold a campus meeting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has a class with him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark doesn’t realise at first, because staying at the top of the dean’s list means he’s a hardcore student, making straight A’s and raising his hand at every opportunity just for that slight chance of extra points. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The average college student sits at the back of the class and plays games on their laptops, so they aren’t really distracting. Mark only notices the dude because he’s decidedly not doing that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark has a habit of studying ahead, so he’s painfully aware of everything the professor is droning on about. Using proper spacing and sources. Blah blah blah, Mark wrote the essay he’s assigning a week ago, already prepared for the next four essays as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So his eyes wonder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They land on a boy sat a row down from him. It’s a small class, only about 20 students, so Mark quickly realises he doesn’t recognise him. He’s smaller, like a freshmen, which is probably why Mark notices him. This is English comp III. He could just be a small junior, but that seems off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then he notices the fully written essay pulled up on his laptop. He clicks to another tab, where he seems to be doing a fucking background check on the professor. Is that even legal?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s so confused that he doesn’t hear a question being asked. The boy’s hand shoots up into the air. The only one in class who raises his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He was rather short handed, but his ubiquitous influence was felt by the whole family.” The boy says, sounding posh as hell. Mark’s never heard anyone actually say ‘ubiquitous’ in casual conversation unless they just wanted to sound uppity. He could roll his eyes, if he didn’t do the same kind of shit just to show off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You only just got to this school and you’re the only one with the answer. Thank you, Mr..?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nestor. Ethan Nestor.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s like a fucking plot twist in a movie. There’s no way in hell that little freshman looking boy is Ethan Nestor, renowned president of Theta Phi. Mark could cry in relief. He’s been going at this all wrong. This kid clearly isn’t working alone. There’s got to be someone behind the scenes, helping him along to be the best. Mark’s been trying to beat him by being more charitable, or throwing bigger parties. He has to change his strategies. He needs to get personal. Chew at this Ethan Nestor’s unearned ego. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Isn’t this breaking some sort of rule?” Wade asks as Mark seals the invitation with a wax stamper. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I make the rules. You should’ve seen him. He was in jeans and a striped t shirt. He looked like, fucking, Evan Hansen or something. There’s no way this is all him. He’s getting help and once we figure out from whom we can alert the dean and he’ll be fucked off.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This seems sort of dirty, though..” Tyler sighs. Mark hands him the invitation and raises an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Second place is the first to lose. If we have to get dirty then we have to get dirty. Are you with me or would you rather switch to scut?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler’s mouth clamps closed and he nods in respect, turning and leaving the room to deliver the letter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you invite him to dinner. Then what?” Wade asks, sitting down on the chair across from Mark’s large mahogany desk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I get close. I figure out what his weakness is. Take him down when he least expects it. Besides, a few little pranks never killed anyone.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan Nestor can dress up, turns out. He shows up in an all black suit with a white rose clipped onto his pocket. Mark is extremely convinced it’s all a façade. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Trey leads the boy to the dining hall, where Mark waits, sat at the head of the table with only his council brothers sat with him, rather than the whole house. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nice of you to show. I have to say I’m surprised. I know this isn’t of the ordinary.” Mark stands and lowers his chin in hello. Ethan’s eyebrow raises and he sits at the foot of the table, observing the people in the room with a piercing stare. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never been one for normality. Besides, I’d never pass up a meal.” Ethan grins, and a weird feeling bubbles in Mark’s stomach. His grin is off. Seemingly friendly, but rather almost sinister in a way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Trey serves the food, roasted lamb with potatoes and red wine braised brussel sprouts. It’s a rather extravagant meal, but Mark is all for showing off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope you’ll enjoy. No peanuts, as you made clear in your return letter.” A peanut allergy seems funny in a way. Someone with so much reputation, so much bonanza, could be taken down with just one nut. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought feels dark in his head. Now <em>that </em></span>
  <span class="s1">would be a prank gone too far. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm, there goes your one chance to take me down.” Ethan says, then laughs. The rest of the table follows along. Ethan takes a sip of his wine, eyes meeting Mark’s across the table. The comment could easily be taken as a joke, but Ethan’s eyes gloss over in the dim light. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, Mark’s not too sure of his suspicions. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He takes Ethan for a personal tour, just as planned. He feels off for some reason but the boy is already here. Backing out now would just be a pussy move. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And here is my office. I like to read a bit.” Mark takes Ethan to his office. A large room with books lining shelves all along the walls, and large floor to ceiling windows behind his nice desk. It’s almost too fancy, really. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A man of taste,” Ethan steps up to the shelves to look closer at the books, wine in hand, “you have any hidden rooms if I pull one?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark laughs, trying to sound genuine.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If I knew you better I might answer that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan makes a soft sound, thin fingers lightly touching a book in the poetry section. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where The Sidewalk Ends. My mother used to read this to me before bed.” He smiles, and his smile this time isn’t so sinister. It’s sweet, eyes glistening as he remembers something Mark can’t see. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, Mark doesn’t want to do this anymore. Despite the boy being clearly off, he seems to have a soft side. A family. Things that make him happy. It was easier before that smile. It was a lot easier to see him as just competition. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s not evil, he’s rather kind, so it hurts now. He has to go through with it, of course, but now there’s the guilt. He clears his throat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come, let me show you the game room.” Mark holds the door open for the boy and they make their way to the last door in the hallway. It is actually their gaming room, but..</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go ahead.” Mark smiles, standing expectedly next to the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan places a hand on the handle and opens the door just a millimetre. Suddenly, in one swift movement, he takes a hold of Mark’s tie and shoves him through the door. The bucket falls from the ceiling and coats the man in syrup. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gasps in surprise, shielding his eyes from the syrup desperately. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once the shock wears off, he looks at Ethan, who finishes off his wine with a raised eyebrow, then sets the empty glass on the small table next to the doorway. He steps right up into Mark’s bubble, observing the syrup dripping all over him with a twinkle in his eye. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I figured you would take action after I let you see me background checking our English professor. You don’t know me one bit, Mark. You will never surpass me, but I know you won’t give up. I like your drive to be the best. You won’t win, but I can see we are going to have lots of fun.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off with your threats. You don’t know me either.” Mark says angrily, syrup flying from his lips as he talks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You couldn’t be more wrong. I know more than you think,” Ethan takes the white rose from his suit and slips it into Mark’s syrup soaked pocket, “what would Thomas think if he knew his baby brother likes being tied up?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s breath catches in his throat. He has no comeback, no denial, too busy absolutely reeling from that question. Ethan smirks and whirls on his feet, walking down the hall and leaving the house. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stands there for a while, sticky all over as he backtracks through the tour, trying his hardest to find out how Ethan could know. How he knows who his brother is. How he knows...that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a long shower spent getting syrup out of places he never wanted it, Mark steps around his office, looking around the room as if he’ll notice something Ethan might have noticed. He can’t figure out how he knows. Mark’s never told anyone about the pain thing. He hasn’t even explored that part of him. With anyone. That’s something he’s hidden deep inside. He gets to the point where he wonders if Ethan can read minds or something. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Setting the rose Ethan gave him in a bowl on his desk, Mark leans back and decides not to back down. He has to get one step ahead. He underestimated him because of his appearance. Ethan’s obviously extremely clever, but everyone has a weakness. Everyone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He just has to try a little harder to find out what that weakness is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next day, Mark sits brooding in English when someone sits in the chair directly next to him. People never do that. They steer clear of him unless they’re in his house. Everyone knows that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Morning!” It’s Ethan, smiling all silly. He’s wearing maroon jeans, glasses perched on his nose, and his hair is messy, frizzy like he ran his hand through it too much. Quite a startling contrast from the all black suit and devilish grin from the day before. It’s like he turns into a different person when he goes to class. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck off.” Mark says, frowning, reaching for his laptop to move to a different seat. Suddenly, Ethan reaches out and catches his wrist, fingers just slightly too tight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, we could be friends. I’d rather skip the whole budding heads routine. Whatever prank you’re planning will only end in failure, don’t you see that?” Ethan pouts. To anyone watching, it could easily look like Ethan was asking for a lollipop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A weird feeling bubbles in Mark’s stomach. His eyes drop to Ethan’s pursed lips for just a second. Not even a second. Half, maybe. Just a flicker. It’s enough. Ethan’s suddenly grins, hand tightening even further around his wrist. It hurts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stands up so abruptly that his chair spins on its swivel. He shoves his things into his rucksack without making sure it’s neat and leaves the room. He’s ahead in the class anyway, but he’s never missed a class. He’ll have to get a doctors excuse to make sure it doesn’t go on record. He knows someone who can fake one for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once he’s all the way outside of the building and to his Tesla, he presses his forehead to the vehicle, heart pounding in his ears. He looks down at his wrist. It’s red from how tightly Ethan was holding onto it. He’s never met anyone like him in his life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Getting into his car, he thinks of dead dogs, naked grandmas. Anything. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Ethan’s hand had squeezed him that way, a zip of pleasure had gone up Mark’s spine, and he thought of the boy in a way he’s never thought of a dude before. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tries painfully to delete this from his memory. He’s never been anything even remotely close to gay, or even bi. He knows what he is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark pulls the balaclava over his nose so only his eyes are showing and climbs into the window from Tyler’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Five minutes!” Tyler stage whispers up to him, reminding him that he will be on his own if he’s not back in five minutes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark nods and drops from the window sill into the lobby, sneaking in a crouched position through the house, eyes flitting around as he remembers the blueprints Bob got them so he knows which part of the house he’s in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The meeting room isn’t hard to find. It’s nearly pitch black, but the small house statue that every fraternity on campus has is in a lit case by the window. Each statue is personalised for every house, with their pin on the statue and their name engraved in the base. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark is grateful that the floors aren’t creaky as he makes his way to the statue. He lifts the glass box with silent finesse, relief flooding through him when no alarms raise. Unless they’re silent, of course. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sets the glass box back and turns, statue in hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Someone stands in the doorway, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right on time.” Ethan says, just a shadow in the pitch black room. Mark doesn’t move. He’s disguised. Perhaps Ethan doesn’t know it’s him. His eyes flicker around the room, planning his escape. He can still win. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be difficult. Just set the statue on the table, Mark. I have to say I’m disappointed. From syrup buckets to stealing the house statue? It’s all so..elementary.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stands and grits his teeth, setting the statue on the table a little too harshly. He yanks his balaclava off, trying to see Ethan’s face in the pitch black room, only shapes and shadows visible from the lit glass box. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you fucking know?!” Mark asks angrily, stepping up to Ethan like he might hit him. He won’t, but he’s still pissed off. There’s no way he could know everything. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re just so easily predictable. Surprise me for once, then maybe you’d beat me at one single thing and end this silly competition between us.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m trying to surprise you, you fuck. You’re the one not turning on the light just so you can keep up this dramatic villain scheme.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan chuckles and steps just that bit closer to make it just pass the line of platonic, then he reaches to the wall and turns a knob until the lights are just bright enough to see each other, but still extremely dim. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think you like this dramatic villain scheme. You sure like my schoolboy look, going by your reaction last class.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark grits his teeth. He could punch him if he were a violent person. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a fucking psychopath. Bipolar, I’m thinking.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan reaches up and combs the hair back from Mark’s forehead. Mark slaps his hand away with a huff. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So defensive, but not denying it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not gay, dude.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Neither am I.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Could’ve fooled me.” Mark’s just being petty now, really. He crosses his arms like a petulant child. Ethan just looks mostly amused.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s never been in this sort of situation before. He’s gotten so used to being the smartest in the room. One step ahead of everyone. Above everyone. Now, he’s being shot down a peg and it not only pisses him off, but excites him to no end. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To finally have some competition? It’s secretly fun as hell. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think you’re enjoying this just as much as I am, but I think we’re both getting bored here. Why don’t we do something fun? Surpass the lame pranks and really have some competition around here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you have in mind?” Mark asks before he can stop himself. He’s weak, whatever. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A contest. Not between us, but our houses. A president is nothing if his brothers aren’t up to par.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What does loser have to do?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Depends on just how bored you are. I’m thinking..winner takes it all. Loser has to give up his reign. His house. His brothers.” Ethan grins devilishly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s a lot more hardcore than Mark expected. Underestimated yet again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s fucked.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You sound like you don’t have faith in your house.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I mean..” Mark’s not one for stuttering. He feels like he’s on fire right now. The air is thick. Ethan’s standing way too damn close. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mmm, boring. Can we just give this up then? Truce, or whatever. Look, I’ll make a spelling mistake in my essay so you can retake the dean’s bitch spot if you want.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want your charity.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan yawns and shrugs, then turns on his feet and just leaves the room as if they weren’t even talking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark doesn’t know why he does, but he follows him. Ethan doesn’t protest, walking through the house to what is supposedly his room. A fine room with a large canopy bed. Mark didn’t know people still had those. He lives like a royal, apparently. The boy turns as soon as Mark’s through the door and slams the door shut, pressing Mark against it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There’s no cameras in here.” Ethan says, not moving away but not pressing any closer. Mark’s too shocked to push him away, brain too jumbled to realise he shouldn’t let his hands place on Ethan’s waist. He’s little, but he has all the control in the world right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“W-what—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, I’m not gay either, but there’s some tension between us and it’s fucking with my head.” Ethan says, raising an eyebrow like he’s impatient. Mark shakes his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your mood swings are fucking with <em>my</em></span>
  <span class="s1"> head. What are you like normally if this is you confused?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smirks, tilting his head. The moonlight hits his face perfectly, and Mark’s stomach flutters. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You haven’t met the real me yet. Maybe if you ever figure out my weakness then you would.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark finally snaps out of it, pushing the boy away, who giggles like a fucking mad lad. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this the part where you tell me you’re a sparkling vampire?” Mark asks. Ethan just knows shit. Shit he’s never said around him. Shit he’s only said to..wait a minute. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have a rat, chill out. I can basically see your cheesy interrogation you’re planning in your head right now. Look, maybe one day you’ll figure it out, but right now I’m gonna sleep. It’s been five minutes so Tyler’s left, if you just wanna join instead.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark rolls his eyes, too busy thinking to try and have a comeback. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan yawns and pats at his shoulder until he leaves the room, tapping at his phone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here’s my number. Don’t look too into it.” Ethan says, then his door shuts in Mark’s face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It takes him a stupid amount of time to realise that he’s holding his own phone. That Ethan picked his phone out of his pocket and gave him his number. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down at the new contact, just Ethan and a peach emoji. The contact photo, a white rose like the one he gave him when they first met. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaves in a daze, calling an Uber and then just standing there. Are they, like, friends now? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somehow, he’s just more confused than he was before. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s never been so unfocused in his life. Distracted. He sits at his desk, staring at his homework and the philanthropy paperwork he needs to do, pen held at the ready but not moving a single bit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sets down the pen and scrubs his hands down his face, eyes flickering up to the white rose Ethan gave him in the bowl. It’s starting to wilt, but the petals haven’t fallen yet. He sighs in boredom and picks up the flower, fingers pinching the deadened plant. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A crunch of the petals, but more importantly, it doesn’t fully fall apart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eyebrows furrowing, he turns the flower in his hand and peels back the hardening pieces. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a fucking mic. A small one, stuffed into the centre of the flower like some sort of spy movie. A green dot blinking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Heart racing, Mark laughs and brings the mic up to his lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Clever. Come to my party this weekend, shit head.” Mark says into the mic, before setting the piece on his desk and promptly smashing it with his heavy textbook. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That son of a bitch. No wonder he knew his prank plans. Listening to everything through a mic. Of course Mark put the flower in his office, the one place he has his most secretive meetings. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan was planting mics the first day they met. He’s not just one step ahead, he’s twelve. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark is rather enthralled at this point, if he’s being honest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s quite tipsy by the time Ethan arrives. He almost forgot he even invited the dude. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hate being drunk.” Mark slurs when the boy approaches him. He shoves an open beer to the boy, who declines, looking amused. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t accept open drinks at a college party, silly boy.” Ethan says, then gets his own beer, opening the bottle himself. He leans against the counter. He’s wearing jeans and a matching jean jacket. His white shirt tucked in underneath gives him a retro look. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark isn’t sober enough to stop his obvious once over. Ethan just grins over the lip of his bottle. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hope you didn’t have plans to get me drunk and rob me blind, cause the roles are definitely reversed right now.” Ethan says casually. Mark waggles his finger at him, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No..I feel sick.” He groans. Ethan sets his beer down and takes Mark’s arm, calmly bringing him through the house to the bathroom. Mark thinks he should ask why Ethan knows the layout to parts of the house he never showed on the tour, but he’s too sloppy to remember to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once at the bathroom, Mark stands in the middle of the room, confused. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thought you were going to be sick?” Ethan asks, crossing his arms in the doorway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, not puke sick. Drinking just always makes me feel like shit.” Mark sighs, stepping towards the door and stumbling a bit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Should probably see a doctor about that..where’s your room?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark clumsily leads the way, and Ethan takes him to his room, helping him onto his bed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark flops onto the bed and pulls Ethan with him, who looks surprised for just one second before he grins. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not gay, huh?” He asks, using their position to his advantage, swinging a leg over him and straddling him. Mark just tries to breathe and think clearly, but his brain is a jumbled mess of </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Ethan Ethan Ethan.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-not gay.” Mark confirms, then he sits up so they’re nose to nose, cups Ethan’s face, and presses their lips together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything falls away around him. The noise of the party, the doubts whispering in his mind. He has a feeling he’s never felt before. Fireworks, he reckons. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s hands find their way to his hair, fisting the strands and pulling just enough to hurt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark groans and rolls them over, pressing Ethan down onto the bed and trailing his kisses to the boy’s neck, where he starts to work on a love bite. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mark..” Ethan gasps, and it’s like reality crashing back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark pulls away immediately, eyes moving from the bruise quickly forming on Ethan’s neck, to his face. Uncharacteristically vulnerable. He looks nervous, almost. Like..the Ethan he’s put up all his walls to hide behind finally showing through. Because Mark kissed him?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh my god he kissed him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark pushes himself away, standing up and stumbling to the joining toilets, where he quickly washes his face. He feels like he’s sobering up rather quickly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh, you aren’t freaking out are you?” Ethan asks from the doorway, his classic smirk back, that vulnerableness gone again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not even slightly into guys. I’m just drunk.” Mark says, scrubbing his face with a washcloth to try and get the fuzziness out of his vision. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dude, it’s not a crime to like me. I’m not gay either but I’m not gonna deny that that kiss was fantastic.” He grins, eyes twinkling in the bright lights of the bathroom. He’s too pretty for his own good and it’s fucking up Mark’s brain like nothing else. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t like you. I actually particularly dislike you, if you haven’t noticed.” Mark pushes passed him and steps up to his bedroom door, opening it up and motioning for Ethan to leave. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy sighs and follows along, but stops in front of him, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lie to yourself all you want. You’ll think of me next time you jerk off anyway.” He says, his thin fingers lightly brushing down Mark’s chest to his belt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles and leaves just before his fingers can go any further down, teasing him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark shuts and locks the door, before flopping down onto the bed with an annoyed groan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Back to the naked grandmas for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, I have so much respect for you, but this plan is honestly too far. It’s fucked on so many levels.” Tyler says, standing up and pacing he’s so stressed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark taps his pen against his desk, eyes narrowing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s the only thing that will take him down. For the first time since I met him, he was vulnerable. I could get him like this. Distract him so he slips up and then I find out everything to take him down. Enemies closer, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler chews on his lip and runs a hand through his hair. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah..but this isn’t just keeping enemies close. You’re talking too close. What’s your plan long run? What if he falls in love with you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s sort of the plan. Then I break it off and he’s so sad that he moves back to Maine or wherever the fuck.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler settles back down in the opposing chair and shakes his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is just not you. You’re the guy who changed the rules so we can raise money for multiple charities rather than just one. You, fucking, you paid for my knee surgery just because you’re good for it and I was struggling. Pretending to be in love with someone so you can win a petty college fraternity competition? It’s just fucked.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s jaw clenches. He avoids looking into Tyler’s eyes so he doesn’t call the whole thing off, guilt bubbling in his stomach. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know...are you with me?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tyler frowns deeply, clearly disappointed. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, but he doesn’t hesitate in his answer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m always with you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a shake of their hands, it’s decided. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan shows up in a nicely patterned button down and slacks. Not as casual as his schoolboy wear, but not as formal as his presidential wear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Green looks good on you.” Mark comments, not finding it hard to compliment the guy. It’s true, anyway. His eyes look blue most of the time but they look green today, complimented by his shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know. You finally decided liking me isn’t the worst thing in the world?” Ethan asks, shutting the front door behind him and leaning against it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t get cocky. Just testing this out right now. It’s just dinner, how do you know it’s not professional?” Mark asks, taking his coat from the hook next to them and pulling it on. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because you’re wearing expensive cologne and you haven’t looked away from me once since I arrived. You trying to seduce me?” He asks, grinning. It’s sort of exactly what Mark’s trying to do. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. C’mon.” Mark leads him through the house to his personal garage that only he can park in as president. The rest of the house have to park in the lot out back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nice. This the newest one?” Ethan asks when the garage lights flicker on. He steps up to the Tesla, fingers running over its smooth surface. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep. You like?” Mark asks, opening the door for the boy, who raises an eyebrow with a smile and gets in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark jogs to the other side and gets into the drivers seat, turning the car on and hitting the open garage button. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bold colour, but red is definitely fit for you.” Ethan answers once he’s in. Mark reverses out of the drive and starts the route to the restaurant. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s my favourite colour. What’s yours?” Mark asks, smiling goofily. Ethan huffs a laugh and pops open the glove box, pulling out Mark’s insurance information and reading through his papers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like all colours, really. Trying to figure me out?” Ethan casually asks as he noses through Mark’s personal information then places it back into the compartment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, honestly. You’re so all over the place. Every time I think I figured a part out you do something to oppose it. Is that..is that a normal thing you do?” Mark asks, glancing over at the boy who’s now in the centre console, referring to the fact that he’s looking at everything he keeps in his car. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. Might as well get used to it if we’re gonna be dating now. I already know everything about you but it’s nice to get confirmation.” Ethan finishes his search and sits back, eyes watching the road in front of them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dating? Nobody ever said—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Figured you’d protest that. Nothing wrong with two straight dudes dating, man.” Ethan deadpans, then grins. Mark doesn’t know if he’s joking or not. His hands tighten on the wheel and he just continues to drive. Every time he thinks he has Ethan in his hands, the boy says something that brings him back to square one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would this be our first date then? Maybe we should see a movie afterwards. Make it just that bit more cheesy.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan hums as they pull into the lot of the restaurant. The nicest in town, of course. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe we should. I only kiss on the first date if I’m really impressed.” Ethan lets him know when they come to a stop in the valet line, waiting for the cars ahead of them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean..we already..” Mark trails off, staring straight ahead and trying not to remember their first kiss. He might be starting to sweat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah but I still only kiss if I’m impressed. So if you want it, you better up your game. You didn’t even play me any music on the way here.” Ethan sighs, head falling back to rest on the seat, looking at him with a pout. A very cute pout. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark looks away, stomach fluttering. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I impressed you last time? You let me kiss you, remember?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles and nods. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure you were good at it before you asked me out. Didn’t want to go out with you if you’re a shit kisser.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark raises an eyebrow and is just about to question this, when they reach the front of the line. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark hands off his keys and gets to the passenger side just as Ethan steps out. The valet worker holding the door open has wide eyes on the boy, clear amazement shining through. It’s pretty relatable. Ethan just carries this aura around him that’s unexplainable. He doesn’t need to be mad buff, or tall, or even have any facial hair to be seen. When he walks in a room everyone looks at him anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So I’m good at it then?” Mark confirms. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles, shrugging coyly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dinner goes pretty well. They talk about the restaurant and the people around them and the struggles of being presidents. In the end, they split the bill and head off back for Mark’s car. They didn’t even ask each other first date questions, but the conversation was never stale. It’s weird, though, he still knows just as little about the boy that he did in the beginning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Standing at valet and waiting for his car, Mark watches Ethan look up at the sky. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You okay?” Mark asks, and watches Ethan smile a bit, eyes still on the dark sky above them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. We have class tomorrow and a movie would put us pretty late.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wanna just go home?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark nearly chews his lip off driving the boy back to his house, worried he didn’t impress him. Worried the plan is fucked now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Arriving at the house, Mark parks and steps around the car, opening Ethan’s door for him and helping him out with a hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s really quiet. Ethan’s brothers must be asleep, because the large building is just dark, making the columns in the front look rather menacing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s just standing there next to his car. Not moving to leave. He looks almost expectant. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark nervously steps up to him, hands on the boy’s hips, pressing him back up against his car. The boy doesn’t protest, watching him carefully. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Initiating the kiss sober this time is a lot different. Mark has to fight off the urge to look around and see if anyone’s watching. He has to push away his denial screaming at him in the back of his mind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just like the first time, the moment their lips touch, it all falls away. Mark presses up against him so they’re touching all over. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan hums against his mouth, hands wandering, finding their way to his belt. This time, he unbuckles it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark separates their lips, looking down between them where Ethan is unbuttoning his trousers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“E-Ethan, what—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gonna give you something to think about later.” Ethan says, then he fucking drops to his knees right there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark looks around the parking lot, heart racing. Anyone could be watching from so many different places. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan pulls down Mark’s pants just enough for his dick to fit outside. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, he looks up to Mark, eyes filled with mirth, and opens his mouth, taking Mark in. He’s already hard, which is probably embarrassing seeing as they were only kissing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He has to admit, he hasn’t been blown in some time. Most of his experience with it have been bad. Too much teeth, or just not enough to give him any pleasure, or the girl was just kissing it once. That was a weird one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan? Ethan fucking takes him in slowly, lips tight around him, tongue pressing up for pressure, and doing some swirling thing that has Mark’s mouth dropping open, hand fisting against his car. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy just goes further and further, until he’s deepthroating him with ease. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-fuck..” Mark gasps, wave after wave of pleasure zipping up his spine. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, Ethan backs away and off with a pop, tucks Mark’s cock back into his pants, zips up his trousers, then stands back up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark can’t help the desperate sound he makes, dick uncomfortably pressing up against his clothing, hard as a rock. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan stands back up and leans in to Mark’s ear to whisper there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have no gag reflex. Think about that when you go home and finish yourself off.” Then with a kiss on his cheek, the boy prances off into Theta Phi as if nothing happened. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The moment he steps into his bathroom, he’s braced against the wall over his toilet, pulling himself off desperately. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Trying to think of any girl fails miserably, and as soon as he shuts his eyes, he sees Ethan, on his knees. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He comes, finally, with a strangled sound. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Afterwards, he lies in bed, clutching a pillow to his chest, frowning deeply. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can’t lie to himself. So he is at least physically attracted to the boy, so what? That’s normal, right? Everyone has that one person of the opposite preference that they would fuck. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Doesn’t mean he actually likes him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only a few days pass before Mark decides to sneak onto Theta Phi’s property. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Going through that same window as the first time, (the lock must be broken) he sneaks through the house as to not wake anyone up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All presidents rooms are the masters. Usually at the end of a hall away from the other’s rooms, like Mark’s is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He gets to the top floor and finds his way past all the other doors to the end. He can’t hear any snoring up here, so it must be his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It could easily not be though. Mark turns the handle slowly, opening it just enough to peek through into the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His stomach flips. He guessed correctly, but now his nerves shoot up completely. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room is nearly completely dark, only a small lamp on the bedside table illuminating the room with dim light. Ethan sits on the edge of his bed, facing away from the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark steps in and closes the door just loud enough for Ethan to know he’s there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here to kill me?” Ethan asks, voice slightly slurred. He sounds weird. Not himself, or the “himself” that Mark knows, anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s eyebrows furrow and he steps around the bed so he can see Ethan’s front. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy stares blankly at the carpeted floor, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark gently reaches down and takes the bottle from him, setting it on the table with the lamp. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, I came to see if you wanted to do some late night pranks on the other houses, actually. You okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s pretty drunk, but he’s just blank. His eyes, cold and unseeing in front of him like a shark. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark helps him lie down on the bed, finding himself worried for the lad rather than what he should be doing, which is using this opportunity to snoop and get some useful information. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so tired of being this person, just wanna be me but you wouldn’t like me if I did.” Ethan slurs in response, then he abruptly starts to cry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark can’t help himself, laying down with the boy and pulling him close as he cries. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just be yourself. I’ll like any version of you.” Mark murmurs, trying to ignore the fact that he isn’t lying. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No you won’t. My self is closer to that schoolboy shit. All anxious and stupid. Having trouble forming a single English sentence. Zero confidence.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark frowns, hand grazing comfort over Ethan’s back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just be that guy. Putting on a front all the time, that’s not healthy. That’ll fuck you up mentally. Just be yourself. At least with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan pulls away, wiping his tears, and frowns, eyes meeting his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I do, sometimes. I don’t mean to but my real self is so into you that it’s scary. He’s..I’ve never been with a guy, despite what I say. This is all new to me and I just w-want everything.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark reaches for him, tucking his messy hair back so it’s not in his face, heart absolutely pounding in his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As much as I deny it in my head, I feel the same. I think about you all day.” Mark voice falls to a hushed whisper as he speaks so honestly the words he’s been pushing desperately back since he met the guy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan bends his neck and just kisses him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s different, this time. Ethan rolls on top of him, straddling him, but the kiss isn’t really that dirty. It’s..different. Sweet and slow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark can taste the whiskey on the boy’s tongue. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then Ethan pulls away, sitting up and rubbing the last bit of wetness from his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s scary.” He mumbles, sounding almost like a child. Mark feels up the boy’s thighs, thumbs rubbing circles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My feelings. Cause most of the time I know you’re into me even if you deny it, but my real me doesn’t agree, and thinks your stupid plan is what’s happening, and—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My stupid plan?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, y’know. Your plan to pretend you’re falling in love with me so you can get the upper hand? It’s failing badly because you actually <em>have </em></span>
  <span class="s1">feelings for me, but s’not the point..”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How?!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Put mics all over your house during that tour. Sorry.” Ethan pouts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Mark lifts his hand to run through his hair, the fast movement causes Ethan to flinch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark lies there shocked for a long moment. Ethan just sways slightly on him, absolutely wasted. Why would he flinch? Is he scared of him?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I wouldn’t hurt you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know. It’s my real self. I’m too drunk to keep up the act. Wanna? Wanna..” Ethan fumbles for Mark’s waistband, clearly trying to distract him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark shakes his head and rolls them over so they’re lying down next to each other. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t do that right now. You’re pretty badly incapacitated. Let’s just sleep, okay?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan nods, curling up on his chest, quite small. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“D-don’t treat me differently. I didn’t wanna tell you.” Ethan mumbles, hand clutching Mark’s shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once Ethan passes out, Mark holds him close, not even considering leaving. He stays up for a long time. He’s learned a lot about the boy. Instead of wanting to use it to take him down, it only makes guilt swirl uncomfortably in his stomach. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he wakes, Mark realises he’s late for class. He rushes to the bathroom and uses a spare toothbrush, washing his face and avoiding anyone that could see him, leaving quickly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t see Ethan anywhere, but they share a class, so he should see him anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s not in class. Mark can barely focus through the lecture, leg bouncing nervously. He texts him, asking where he is. No response. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Immediately after class, Mark calls him over and over until finally the boy just simply sends him a pin of his location. Mark puts it in his gps and carelessly skips his next class. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He finds himself at a park. It’s a nice day today, not too cold, so there are people about. Walking dogs or jogging. He finds Ethan just sat on a bench watching the people. Observing like he always is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark sits next to him, turned towards him, arm over the back of the bench. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we should stop whatever we’re doing. I’m going to go back to Maine and we can just forget—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woah woah woah, Ethan, what? Is this because of last night?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course it’s because of last night! I can’t keep up this shit act now that you know it’s all fake. I didn’t..I didn’t predict the feelings to happen.” He closes his eyes and looks away, curling up on himself a bit, knees bending to his chest, arms holding them there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well neither did I! I’ve never even remotely been into dudes and I hated you when we first met!” Mark says exasperatedly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan smiles, chin resting on his knee as he decidedly doesn’t look at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah well your plan didn’t work and I don’t want to hang around now that you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cause I’m Ethan Nestor. Fucking..the infamous president of Theta Phi. I’m not me anymore. It’s hard to keep up the act around you when you look at me so sincerely all the time. That’s why I always knew your shit, by the way. You can say what you want but your eyes are extremely expressive.” Ethan glances over at him but immediately looks away again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark watches a pretty blush spread over the boy’s cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do the act? You can still be Ethan Nestor and yourself at the same time.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No..I don’t have the confidence he has. I’m that kid in the back of the class in high school who the bully trips over then I’m the one who apologises.” He blinks a few times, eyes glossy like he’s remembering that exact scenario happening. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark chews on the inside of his lip and watches him, stomach flipping with the idea of him leaving. Moving so far away. Never to see him again. Mark doesn’t even remember his life before Ethan. It was dull, probably. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t leave..please.” Mark forgets to mask the desperation in his voice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you know how embarrassing this is for me? I’ve never been with a guy either, you know.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well let’s figure it out together. You can’t come here and fuck my entire brain processes then just leave like nothing’s stopping you. Nobody’s ever made me feel like this. When we kiss—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know.” Ethan interrupts like he doesn’t want to hear it, covering his face with his hands and taking a deep stuttering breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark reaches for him, fingers circling his wrist and pulling his hand from his face, then holding the boy’s hand in both of his like he’s begging. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan finally looks at him, turning on the bench so they’re facing each other. The breeze picks up a bit, making his hair fly around. Mark’s stomach flutters. He’s annoyingly pretty. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-Mark..you won’t like me. I’m anxious, and I’m not even slightly confident, I’m not up to my usual par.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark smiles, squeezing his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, lets go see a movie. A real first date. With the real us.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan looks around like he’s seeing if anyone’s watching. He seems to think for a minute, then he stands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay. Just one date.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark stands, grinning goofily. He holds his hand out and Ethan takes it with a roll of his eyes. Together, they walk to their cars. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark waits, leaning against the side of the vehicle, at the entrance to Theta Phi. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t mind the occupants who enter or exit the building that give him a curious look. How he and Ethan have managed to not be seen yet by either of their houses is a mystery to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, the large doors open and the boy steps out, eyes on the floor. He’s really cute, in a colourful vertical striped shirt and skinny jeans with a hole on one knee, and some high top sneakers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It fits him well. Which makes sense, as he’s now the “real him”. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He covers his face in embarrassment when he sees Mark, and approaches him with some adorable giggles, face heating up quickly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark hands him the bouquet of white roses, unable to control his grin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flowers and a limo, really? To go to the movies?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark shrugs and opens the door for him, sliding in after. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anything to get into your pants.” He replies, shutting the door behind him. The driver starts off to the theatre. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan scoffs, affronted, slapping his arm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dirty boy!” He exclaims. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark winks mischievously and reaches for the bottle of champagne, pouring them both a glass. He got a nice limo, of course. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a rather short ride, so they arrive before they can even really drink more than a few sips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Setting their glasses in ice, Mark takes the boy’s flowers and leaves them in the vehicle, stepping out and escorting Ethan to the entrance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tickets?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Already bought. Thought we could enjoy no lines today.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan hums in content. There’s people staring, probably confused why two dudes got a limo to a movie theatre, but Mark pays no mind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan on the other hand, keeps his chin down, eyes flickering at the people looking, ears red in embarrassment. It’s a stark contrast to the Ethan Mark got used to. The Ethan who would walk with his chest puffed and his chin high. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s like he’s meeting a whole knew person. Only this time, there’s no denial and there’s no scheming. Just genuine all around. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After getting some popcorn to share and two drinks, they head to the movie. It’s a romantic comedy. Mark thought it would be the best. Get some laughter in so the boy is in a good mood. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was perfect. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They step out of the building, mouths greasy from the popcorn, laughing as they share their favourite scenes from the movie. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fancy a stroll?” Mark asks once they reach the curb, extending his elbow like an old fashioned gentleman. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan hums and takes the gesture, hand circling his arm as they start the walk back to his. It’s really not that far. Maybe two blocks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y’know, you said I wouldn’t like the real you, but this is the best version of you I’ve met so far. I haven’t laughed this much in a while. My cheeks hurt, actually.” Mark says as they walk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan chuckles, squeezing his arm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me neither. I-I’m nervous, this whole time, but it’s nice to just let go. Not worry about keeping up the act. It gets exhausting after a while.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I get that, actually. I do all of this work to make sure I’m the best at everything but most days I sort of just want to sit at home all day and play video games.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They get to the quieter part of campus, just a street from the fraternity buildings. It’s getting rather dark. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Turning the corner onto fraternity street, the street lights suddenly flicker on right when they’re standing under one. Ethan shivers as a breeze comes through. It was almost warm at one point today. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stop, and Mark shucks off his jacket, draping it over Ethan’s shoulders before the boy can even open his mouth to protest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slips his arms into the garment, looking up at Mark with a shy smile. The street light above them is a dreadful yellow colour, but it falls beautifully on his cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gentleman.” Ethan murmurs, fingers barely sticking out of the jacket, just a bit too big on him. They continue walking, and Mark has to go out of his way to try and breathe normally. There’s something about the boy in his clothing..</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They reach Theta Phi far too quickly. Stopping at the entrance, Ethan sways nervously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“U-um, I had lots of fun. We should..again, ya know?” It makes some sort of sense probably. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark nods in agreement, hands lifting to rest on Ethan’s hips, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy holds onto Mark’s biceps, just looking straight nervous. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bending his neck, Mark just goes for it, pressing their lips together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kissing him is different now somehow. He’s more apprehensive, letting Mark take the lead. It’s feels like a first kiss almost. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pulling away, Ethan exhales shakily. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wanna come inside?” He asks, cheeks pink, as if he didn’t nearly blow Mark in the wide open just ten feet away from where they’re standing the other day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan leads him through the building, hand in his. There’s probably a few people who notice them, but Mark doesn’t pay any attention to it, following like a puppy to his bedroom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once there, he presses Ethan down onto the bed, pressing kisses everywhere he can. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan giggles, ticklish apparently. Mark grins, sitting up and whipping his shirt off. The boy’s giggles quiet down, nimble fingers feeling down his bare chest, pausing at his belt. Their eyes meet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Already?” Ethan asks, fingers tightening on Mark’s hem so he knows what he’s referring to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark bites a smile back. Of course there’s already a tent in his pants. If only Ethan could see himself right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you blame me? You’re so fucking..you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eloquent.” Ethan teases, unbuckling Mark’s jeans and pulling it off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He goes to toss the belt away, then he giggles, tapping at Mark’s pec. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Trade places.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark complies, rolling over so Ethan’s on top. The boy takes his wrists, slowly pulling them above his head. Mark realises stupid late what he’s doing. His heart rate increases immediately, eyes widening. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He could easily take control. He’s just plainly bigger than the boy, but he just lies there as Ethan uses the belt to restrict him to the headboard. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s just slightly too tight. Mark will have red marks on his wrists for sure. The thought makes goosepimples rise over his skin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan then undresses them both. Their silliness is far gone, replaced by something hot and heavy. Mark’s never been so turned on and they haven’t even done anything yet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What else you into?” Ethan asks, fingers grazing up Mark’s torso and pausing right by his nipple. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark swallows in anticipation. He would probably squirm if Ethan wasn’t sat atop him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you know already? I haven’t even told—oh fuck.” Mark breaks off into a gasp as Ethan suddenly pinches his nipple roughly. It’s painful, and so good. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not hard to guess.” Ethan murmurs, and then he reaches behind himself. Mark thinks he’s going to open himself up, but the opposite happens. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He makes a small noise, and his hand reappears, holding some sort of..holy shit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that a butt plug?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan grins, cheeks pink, tossing the plug onto the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I wanted to skip the foreplay, if I’m honest.” He says. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you been wearing that all night? Wait, um, shouldn’t we talk about..that?” Mark finds it hard to protest when Ethan just starts to roll a condom onto him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Talk about what? Do you want this or..?” He chews on the inside of his lip, eyes going sad just at the thought. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark goes to reach for him, only to just painfully pull on his restraints. Pleasure spikes up his spine at the pain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, of course I want it. I just mean- are you ready? You’ve never been with a guy, it’s supposed to hurt.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know. Just lie back and try not to come, it’ll be tight.” Ethan sighs, then just fucking lifts up onto his knees, positioning himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark can only watch in amazement as the boy sinks down onto him. He was right. It’s tight as hell. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Toes curling, his fingernails dig into his palms as he tries desperately not to get overexcited. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s beautiful, sweat forming at his hairline, eyebrows knit together as he takes him in like a champ. The plug probably helped a good bit with the stretch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once he’s bottomed out, he pauses for a moment and exhales shakily. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Take your time. Don’t—“ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s good.” Ethan interrupts, eyes meeting his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s jaw slacks as the boy slowly starts to move, riding him like he’s enjoying every inch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nobody’s ever made him feel like this. Like he’s going to explode at any second. Like he might have a heart attack, or like he might just drop the L bomb far too early just because he’s feeling so much all at once. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As he starts to pick up speed, these sounds start to pour out of Ethan’s mouth. Hot little gasps or curses. Mark can’t touch him, but god does he want to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Such a good thing can only last so long. Mark can feel it build up quite quickly, pooling in his stomach. He pulls against his restraints, and every time it makes him just more turned on. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Close.” He gasps. Ethan leans forward a bit, thighs shaking, pressing their lips together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark flattens his feet on the bed and helps him out, fucking up into him quickly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s not much kissing with this new angle. Ethan moans loud enough that people in the house can probably hear, hand snaking between them to pull himself off in time with the thrusts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s the strongest orgasm Mark’s ever had. He sees white spots in his vision, and he makes noises he didn’t think he ever would. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s better than any girl he’s ever been with in his life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan lifts off of him, tossing the condom and finally unbuckling Mark’s restraints. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Immediately, Mark’s touching him, sitting up to kiss him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan giggles against his lips, legs wrapping around him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good?” He asks as Mark presses kisses up his jaw. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So fucking good.” He sighs, then he stands, setting Ethan down on the bed and stepping over to the toilet to run a bath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark can’t stop smiling, fingers scratching at Ethan’s scalp while he washes the boy’s hair. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan gently scrubs a soapy loofah over Mark’s chest, cheeks red and lips redder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re beautiful.” Mark murmurs, unable to help it. He takes the water faucet head and rinses out Ethan’s hair. The boy tips his head back so none of it gets in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up.” The boy replies, unable to take a compliment. Mark can’t take his eyes off him. He’s never felt like he’s falling for someone so quickly in his life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll stay here? With me?” Mark asks. It’s a big question, asked in a small way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan doesn’t hesitate. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I’m staying.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. jealousy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Credit: Anonymous</p><p>Prompt: Alex flirts with Ethan while filming “kings physical fitness test”. Mark gets jealous. </p><p>Words: 3k</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is PAINFULLY unedited. Sorry haha I haven’t been feeling the best mentally lately but it shouldn’t stop fics being made! It only slows the process, but bc of the virus I’m working from home so I should be able to pump fics out quicker now.</p><p> Thank you to everyone who has been giving this project so much love it honestly brightens my days even when they feel so dark.</p><p>💚</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s sick. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not crazy flu sick or anything, but enough that he’d honestly rather just go home than record a fitness video of all things right now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You gonna be alright?” Alex asks, reaching out and feeling his heat to check his temperature. The dude’s wearing a fucking tank top, because of course he is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, probably. If I die it’ll be good content, anyway.” Ethan jokes. Alex pulls his hand away and laughs, crossing his arms, biceps flexing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yep, he’s way too sick for this, holy shit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tearing his eyes away from the man, his eyes fall onto Mark, who seems to be already looking at him, eyebrows furrowed. When their eyes meet, Mark smiles, the line between his eyebrows disappearing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s even worse. Ethan’s far too weak right now to be around all these hot guys and not fucking ask one of them to hold him or something. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He crouches down, sitting on his knees and coughing into his elbow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“At least take me to dinner first.” Alex says, and Ethan looks up, realising he’s just gotten on his knees right in front of the guy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs, but it just turns into a coughing fit. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hold on, buddy.” Alex says, then jogs over to his bag, coming back with a bottle of water. He crouches down in front of the boy, long hair falling in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks.” Ethan says, opening the water to drink some. As he does, he watches Alex pull his hair back into a band. He’s too hot for his own good. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ready!” Evan calls, having finished setting up the cameras. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got this.” Alex says while Ethan screws the cap back on the water. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh.” Ethan pouts, not wanting to get up. He looks over to Mark, who’s walking up to them. Alex looks over as well, then he narrows his eyes and stands up, reaching a hand down to help Ethan up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy takes his hand and makes a surprised noise when he’s just suddenly on his feet. His vision goes white and he stumbles a bit, but Alex keeps a hold on him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, sorry.” Alex laughs. Ethan can’t help but giggle as well at his own weak ass body. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You two need a room?” Mark asks when he steps up to them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alex taps his elbow against Ethan’s. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hopefully.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan covers his face in embarrassment. The openly flirting thing is a bit much. He wonders if maybe Alex noticed him checking the guy out and he’s taking the piss, or if he’s just hilarious all the time. Mark’s the one who’s been training with him, so Alex and Ethan aren’t the closest of people. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Either way, Mark looks moody. When Alex walks away to return the water to his bag, Mark steps up, watching the guy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You obviously have some chemistry. It’ll be good on camera.” Mark says, still watching the guy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? Nah, we’re just joking. You jealous?” Ethan jokes, twirling his hair like he’s a schoolgirl. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark doesn’t laugh. He looks back to Ethan, jaw clenching. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before Ethan can question anything, the cameras start rolling and they begin the session. Within a few minutes, the boy forgets the fire look in Mark’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We can finish recording tomorrow. I’ll just take you home.” Mark says when he climbs into the drivers seat after dropping Alex off back at the gym. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nooo, I can record.” Ethan whines, finishing his sentence with a nasty cough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark smiles, shaking his head. He starts the drive. It’s a nice day out, but Ethan just feels like shit, and it’s only increasing by the minute now that the high of the exercise is wearing off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...the flirting with Alex?” Mark doesn’t look at him, eyes firmly on the road. Ethan turns his head, resting back on the headrest, eyebrows furrowing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s up with you? It’s all jokes. You and I flirt all the time!” Ethan says for example. Mark’s hands tighten on the steering wheel and he shakes his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know what he’s doing. It’s fucked, but it’s working. I knew I shouldn’t tell him..” Mark mumbles nonsense, mostly to himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you okay, you psychopath?” Ethan laughs nervously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark says nothing, driving with a very stoic expression, but his eyes flit crazily, like he’s thinking too much. Ethan watches him, too sick to put forth energy to figure the guy out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they arrive to his house, Ethan sits up from the seat with a groan, unbuckling his seatbelt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll call you when I get bett—“ Ethan’s cut off by Mark reaching over, hand circling his wrist. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I want to ask you something.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“O-okay.” Ethan leans back again, looking down at Mark’s fingers that can touch each other around his thin wrist. Suddenly, the air is thick in the car. Mark’s eyes bore into him like lasers, expression intense. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t want to be here in six months and you’ve met some fit hunk of a dude who has lots of confidence to ask you out and I’d just sat there all this time, cowardly, never just..” Mark might as well be speaking in tongues. Ethan swallows nervously and turns his wrist in the man’s hand, and holds him right back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m confused. Are you okay?” He asks in a low murmur, as if there’s someone around to hear him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark looks down and reaches his other hand in and fiddles with Ethan’s allergy bracelet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck it. Do you want to go to dinner? With me?” Mark asks, eyes meeting his again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? Um, yeah okay. I don’t know how much I can eat right now, and I should shower first—“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, ugh, Ethan..” Mark pulls away and slumps over the steering wheel defeatedly, groaning in annoyance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?! You’re being weird! Why are you annoyed?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cause you aren’t getting it. I’m asking you on a date, you oblivious fuck.” Mark says into the wheel. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like, for a video?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark groans again and suddenly gets out of the car, circling to Ethan’s side and opening his door, pulling him out and then up to his house. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they’re inside, Mark stops in the foyer and crosses his arms. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, not for a video. A date. Where we dress up and I take you to a fancy dinner and then we kiss on your doorstep when I drive you home.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s stomach flutters and he has a hard time maintaining eye contact, cheeks pinking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this a joke or something?” It has to be. Mark, the guy he’s had weird feelings about since they first met, would never feel the same. It’s impossible. It makes no sense at every angle he looks at it. There’s just no way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not a joke. Take a few days. Get well and think about it.” Mark chews on the inside of his lip like he does when he’s nervous, then he backs out of the door and leaves. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan walks dazedly to the bathroom to take a shower, wash off the sweat from the workout. He can’t fathom the thought that this is serious. Maybe Mark planned a pranking video for the channel? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s too sick to even think about it right now, anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Trying to edit proves to be quite the exercise when he’s distracted. Every few minutes, he looks at his phone, expecting to find a “sorry, it was all a joke” text. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It never comes. There’s nothing. He’s feeling better today, but his nose is still runny. Is he meant to give an answer? He’s scared to say yes, as it’ll be admitting his feelings, but he knows Mark is expecting one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eh, he’ll text tomorrow if he feels better. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s woken up and is halfway through his coffee when he realises he feels great. His sickness has worn off. He’ll probably even exercise today. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Setting down his mug, he picks up his phone, seeing Mark still hasn’t messaged. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He taps the message box and chews on his lip, nerves bubbling in his stomach. He’s scared to say yes, but he knows he couldn’t say no. Just on the slim chance that Mark is serious, he could never say no. Reject him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">‘<em>I’m not sick anymore</em>.’</span> <span class="s1"> he sends. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Was hoping you’d text today.’ Mark replies within a minute. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><em>‘About that date</em>—‘ </span> <span class="s1">Ethan frowns and backspaces. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘<em>I’d love to—‘</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">‘Were you serious about—‘</span> </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>‘Joking about this is cruel</em>—‘</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan sets his phones down and groans, covering his face. He has no idea what to say. The device vibrates, leading him to look back down at it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I can see you typing haha just say yes or no. If you don’t want to we can forget this ever happened.’ Mark’s sent. Ethan picks up his phone, eyebrows furrowing. His heart skips a bit. It almost sounds like the man is nervous himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">‘<em>Yes</em>.’ </span> <span class="s1">Ethan replies, exhaling shakily. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’ll pick you up at 8.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After thirty minutes of overthinking his outfit, Ethan decides on what he would usually wear on a date. A button up and his nice jeans. Not too dressy but not casual. Mark mentioned dinner, but he doesn’t know if it’s going to be at his place or in a restaurant, or if Mark will show up with a camera and a laugh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can’t get the fear out of his head. It still just feels impossible. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The doorbell rings, and Ethan’s leg abruptly stops bouncing anxiously. He stands and steps over to the door, opening it. His stomach flips at the sight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s in a nice dressy black shirt and a matching blazer. His hair seems to have a bit of gel in it, and he’s holding a bouquet of red lilies. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought roses would be too cliché. I don’t know your favourite flower.” Mark says, cheeks pinking, eyes dropping down to give the boy a once over. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan laughs nervously and takes the flowers, smelling them. He leaves the door open and backs into the house, picking up a vase from under the sink. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure what my favourite is either, to be honest.” Ethan says, taking the wrapping from the flowers and placing them in the vase. Mark leans against the counter, smiling. He’s unfairly hot in all black. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once he sets the vase down, suddenly Mark reaches for him and takes his hand, stopping him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, it’s just me. You don’t have to be nervous.” The man says. Ethan looks down at his hand, shaking in Mark’s. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry. I’m still waiting for the punchline, honestly.” Ethan says, and forces his eyes to meet the man’s. He just finds warmth, excitement. It calms his nerves a bit. He’s known Mark for years. Going on a date could easily be something they’d do for the channel anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why don’t you ever trust me?” Mark sighs, but he’s grinning. Ethan shrugs coyly and lets the man lead him outside, their hands still clasped. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As they drive, they sing along to music on the radio and it’s like any other drive they take. Silly sing alongs and goofing off. Ethan relaxes more and more as the minutes pass. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stays relaxed as they arrive at some hella nice restaurant, and as they order. Conversation flows easily now. It’s like nothing’s changed. It’s like any other meal they have. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They split the bill and when they leave the restaurant, Mark walks the opposite direction of his car. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where we going?” Ethan asks, falling in step beside him. Mark just smiles and offers his hand. The boy takes it, giggling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walk in comfortable silence until Ethan hears the ocean and sees the lights. It’s the amusement park on the pier. It’s nearing 9, so there’s mostly teenagers and other dates milling about. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You up for dessert?” Mark asks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure. I’ve never been here, actually.” He says, and for the first time that night, he looks around at the people enjoying their own nights. He’s surprised Mark doesn’t pull their hands away. Dinner together isn’t odd for them, but holding hands in public? Ethan had expected this was something Mark had wanted to hide, but the man doesn’t seem to even notice, leading him to a candy floss booth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it peanut free?” Mark asks the man. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep! Just sugar.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark hands him a bill and they watch him weave the sugar around a cone. It’s pretty nice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They share the candy as they walk down the pier, joking and laughing, feeding each other the sticky floss. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan doesn’t notice he’s being led until Mark takes the cone from him and tosses it in a passing bin, before taking his hand and stepping up to the entrance of the huge Ferris wheel. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mr. Fischbach?” The woman asks. Mark confirms with a grin and they’re let into the gate. As they slide into the metal seat, they pull the safety bar over their heads and the wheel starts to move. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is this, a VIP Ferris wheel?” Ethan asks, laughing nervously. The lady watches them from below, talking into a walkie talkie. He can’t help but expect something is going to happen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark lifts his arm and places it on the seat behind Ethan’s back, other hand on the safety bar. He looks like he’s holding back a smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something like that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once they reach the top, the wheel creeks to a halt. The view is astounding, the lights of the city behind them, the ocean a black abyss, only visible by the moon’s reflection in the waves. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, a pop in the distance, then a firework explodes in the sky. Looking at the sea line, Ethan can barely make out a boat that’s setting the fireworks off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s speechless at the sight as fireworks continuously go off, illuminating the ocean in many colours. Suddenly, he realises nobody else is on the wheel with them, and they’ve been at the top this entire time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks at Mark, only to find the man is already staring at him. The fireworks are still going, coating the man in a rainbow of colour. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you do this?” Ethan asks over the noise of the fireworks and the breeze. Mark smiles and shrugs. It’s enough answer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s beautiful, and so damn romantic. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark doesn’t look away to the pretty light show. He reaches over Ethan’s lap, hand on his thigh, and pulls him over a few inches so their legs are touching, then his hand reaches for his face and he cups the boy’s cheek. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan just sits, frozen, eyes wide as he watches Mark lean in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This okay?” The man asks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-yeah.” Ethan says. At his confirmation, Mark closes the distance between them. There’s no sudden pull back at the end. There’s no laughter and jokes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s lips are soft, and his stubble is scratchy. He wore cologne for this, and he’s an incredible kisser. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s some huge finale with a ton of fireworks happening in front of them, but it’s nothing compared to the fireworks he feels with the kiss. Despite his expectations, it feels immensely right. It feels like coming home. It feels like this should’ve happened ages ago. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lips parting, Mark pulls away a few centimetres, hand dropping to Ethan’s thigh, where his thumb rubs circles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fireworks die off, and they both just smile dazedly as the Ferris wheel kicks back into motion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have no idea how often I’ve thought about doing that.” Mark confesses as they descend. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why didn’t you?” Ethan asks, elbowing him with a smile. Mark shrugs, cheeks heating up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fear of rejection, mostly. I didn’t want to chance losing you as a friend.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s really sincere. Ethan doesn’t know what to say. At the bottom of the wheel, the lady from before grins at them as they pass. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I guess I’m still just surprised. I can’t stop thinking it’s all a prank.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s alright. I’ll just keep showing you how real this is.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Walking back up the pier, Mark takes his hand once again, and Ethan looks at the people around, nervous. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, I should’ve asked. Someone could recognise us.” Mark moves to pull his hand away but Ethan holds him tighter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I’m fine. I’m just surprised you are, really. I expected you’d want to hide it for some reason.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark laughs like the idea is baffling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As if I wouldn’t want to show you off. All I do is show off, do you even know me?” Mark asks and they both laugh. They start to walk back towards Mark’s car, and Ethan stops noticing the few faces of recognition, or the few who pull out phones. He finds it hard to notice it now, when Mark won’t stop smiling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">-</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stepping up to his front door, Ethan turns around and fiddles with his keys nervously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, do you want to come inside?” He asks, fully aware of what he’s implying. Mark swallows visibly and nods, eyes dark while he unlocks the door. Stepping inside, they remove their shoes. Ethan sets his keys in the bowl and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a hook. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stepping into the kitchen, Ethan leans over the counter to smell the flowers, still vibrant and beautiful in the vase, then he turns around and leans against the cabinet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark looks hesitant, hands fiddling with one of his coat sleeves. Ethan, all worry of pranks gone, reaches out and pulls him in. The man places his hands on the counter on either side of him, and he leans in wordlessly for a kiss. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s nothing like it. Ethan makes a desperate noise and pulls him closer, but they’re already touching everywhere. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“M-my room..” Ethan pulls away saying, then pulls Mark’s coat off, dropping it carelessly on the kitchen floor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark scoops him up, lips meeting again as they stumble sloppily towards his room, shedding clothes like a cheesy romantic movie scene. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pressing him to the bed, Mark grins and pulls his shirt off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Been working out?” Ethan teases, biting his lip as his hands graze over Mark’s bare chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man laughs, shucking off his jeans then undressing Ethan as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, um, you got any..” he suddenly stops, hands on the waistband of his briefs, looking abruptly nervous. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan reaches blindly for his bedside drawer and brandishes a condom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what you’re doing?” He asks teasingly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Watched a few videos.” Mark replies, cheeks pinking. Ethan giggles, but they die down quickly as Mark finally undresses completely. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’ve seen each other nude on a few occasions, obviously, but context is everything. It’s like seeing each other for the first time. Mark then pulls off Ethan’s briefs, eyes dark. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When their lips meet again, there’s a new desperation. Want. Need, really. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan’s hands wander down, down, down, then for the first time in his life he wraps his hand around another dudes dick. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark’s kisses slack a bit, humming deeply, and pulls away, sitting up so they aren’t touching anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Flip over. Wanna try something.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan complies, rolling over onto his stomach, crossing his arms under his head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark leans over him again, kissing his shoulder, his spine, the dimples on his lower back. When he spreads his arsecheeks, Ethan feels his cheeks heat up as he’s exposed. On display. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t expect the tongue, so he gasps in surprise when he feels it. Mark pressing into him. It’s wet, and hot, but it doesn’t hurt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“F-fuck, Mark.” Ethan gasps, pulling a pillow to his face to hold onto as Mark licks into him. He’s never been rimmed before. It’s a feeling he can’t describe. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark squeezes his arse and hums like he’s enjoying himself, pressing in as far as his tongue will go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan presses back into his face uncontrollably, knuckles going white with how tight he’s holding onto the pillow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please, please.” He begs, exhaling in relief when Mark pulls back, the warm fuzzy feeling fading a bit. He flips back over and spreads his legs. It feels a bit slutty but he doesn’t even care anymore. Their eyes meet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re so..” Mark trails off, taking a deep breath. He shakes his head and settles between his legs, hesitating as he rolls on the condom, “are you sure?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.” Ethan says simply, hand finding Marks, tangling their fingers together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As Mark presses into him, Ethan exhales slowly. It’s a stretch. It’s not terribly painful after being prepped, but it’s still a stretch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look at me.” Mark says once he bottoms out. Ethan opens his eyes, meeting his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a minute of figuring out a rhythm, the pain quickly subsides to pleasure. Ethan’s toes curl as he’s fucked, back arching.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ethan,” Mark groans in warning. The boy opens his eyes once more, looking at him, “close?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-yeah.” He gasps, not looking away this time. He watches the pleasure on Mark’s face. The tensing of his jaw, the grumbling deep in his throat, the furrowing of his eyebrows. He’s beautiful. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ethan comes between them, eyes fluttering closed without his permission, jaw slacking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mark bends his neck and follows suit, gasping his name. <br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once their high has calmed down, they begin to laugh, holding each other. <br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re going to be insufferable.” Ethan sighs, trailing kisses up Mark’s jaw. <br/><br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“God, the worst.” Mark confirms, a twinkle in his eye. </span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">They lie there for a long while, basking in each other, happily. </p>
  </div></div>
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